Desire & Duty
by dropdeadred
Summary: An AU fic, WIP.
1. Introduction

DESIRE & DUTY  
by MEL  


INTRODUCTION  
CHAPTER 1  
CHAPTER 2  
CHAPTER 3  
CHAPTER 4  
CHAPTER 5  
TBC 

**DESIRE & DUTY**  


An A/U [Alternate Universe] WIP [Work in Progress]  
PG

**Introduction**

New York  
October 1807

Dear Mr. Crawford,

I trust that this letter finds yourself and Bella in good health. I apologize for not contacting you sooner after my husband's death but this has been a trying and busy time for all of the estate and matters only now allow me the leisure of writing to you to inform you of my plans for the immediate future. I intend to travel to England in November and would be extremely grateful of some hospitality at Lowingham while I find my own property in the area. I expect to come to Derbyshire the second Friday in November, at which time we will review the business arrangements that stood between yourself and my late husband at the time of his death. I trust you will not find this presumptuous of me, but my husband entrusted this matter solely to me and I intend to do his faith in me justice.

Please extend my greetings to Mrs. Crawford.  
Yours,

Mrs. Clarice Starling

Go to Chapter One


	2. Chapter One

DESIRE & DUTY  
by MEL  


INTRODUCTION  
CHAPTER 1  
CHAPTER 2  
CHAPTER 3  
CHAPTER 4  
CHAPTER 5  
TBC 

**DESIRE & DUTY**  


Chapter One

It was a Monday, early morning, when Mrs. Clarice Starling disembarked the ferry that had brought her from the continent to Dover. Several ladies swooned on the arms of their gentlemen, looking quite green in the face. The trip had been an eventful one, as far as the seas were concerned. She outstripped them all down the gangplank, her lady-maid hurrying after her gulping the fresh air and trying not to look as ill as she felt. Pausing only long enough to see that the man wheeling her trunks down was following, she patted the sickly maid on the shoulder to reassure her and started towards the gates.  
"Take deep breaths, Annie."  
"I don't know how you do it, Miss," Annie said weakly.  
"It's in my blood." She smiled. "Now, let's see about a carriage to London." She looked around, trying to spot a likely coach. The man who had brought the luggage off the ship spoke up.  
"If you don't mind waitin' here ma'am, I'll go fetch a cab."  
"Thank you. That would be wonderful."  
The man trotted of in the direction of the road.

The docks were busy, cargo being wheeled hither and thither, boxes stacked seemingly haphazardly all around, and people - people everywhere. Ladies hitched their skirts a demure inch above the fetid ground and wrinkled their noses, not leaving the sides of their escorts for a second. Gentlemen stood, austere, studiously avoiding looking at the garishly dressed ladies resting in the shadows. The air was dull with smoke and thick with noise. It was not a place for the faint of heart.

Clarice Starling stood tall amidst the chaos. Annie's eyes were wide, distracted from her queasy stomach by the sights around her. She nudged her mistress as she spotted a man approaching them. His eyes were fastened on them as he weaved through the milling throng. He was dressed respectably but his cuffs and collar showed some wear and grime. The two ladies watched him wipe his hands on the seat of his coat as he approached, his beetle black eyes taking them both in from top to toe. He stopped in front of them, and clicked his heels together, bowing low. Mrs. Starling did not offer her hand, and he did not miss the implication.  
"Ladies," he spoke, not missing a beat. "Forgive my impertinence but it seemed to my practiced eye that two such as yourselves should not be unattended at the docks. Is your, er, husband, here with you?"  
Annie blushed and cast her eyes down, allowing her mistress to answer.  
"No sir, I am here on my own. I am awaiting a cab to London."  
"You will ride into London alone? Ma'am, is that wise?" The man seemed a little taken aback at such a forthright answer. He thought he had seen a lady in need of rescue.  
"Thank you for your concern Mr?"  
"Krendler. Mr. Paul Krendler." He bowed again, a little nonplussed by this matter-of-fact lady.  
"Do you work here Mr. Krendler?"  
"Yes ma'am," he answered automatically. "I'm in the import-export business," He puffed his chest out. "I just came back home from New York. Are you from near there Miss? I recognize by your speech you are from that area."  
"Close," she answered, smiling a half-smile. "Is that your ship over there?" She gestured behind him, over his shoulder, to the ship from whence he had approached.  
"Yes ma'am._ The Clarice_."  
Annie, who had been studiously looking at her toes, jumped and exclaimed:  
"_The Clarice_? Why, that's-"  
"That's a pretty ship, yes thank you Annie." Annie was obediently quiet, if confused.  
The man's dark eyes were fixed on Mrs. Starling once more.  
"If you'd allow me to be so bold, I would be honoured to ensure your safe journey to London. I am heading north myself, this very day." He smiled, showing many teeth, but there was something predatory in his eyes.  
"That won't be necessary, though I appreciate the gesture. I see my man now." She spotted the man returning, he was waving to her over the heads of the crowd. She offered Mr. Krendler a polite, if shallow, curtsey, and made for the carriage, steering Annie by the elbow.

Tipping the man after he had finished lashing down her three trunks to the top of the carriage, Clarice bid him good day and sank gratefully into her seat in the cab. Annie sat opposite her, too much over-excited by her surroundings to sit back and relax finally. Annie had never been far outside of her own small hometown when she had gone to work for the Starlings. She had been lady maid to Mrs. Starling for six years now and adored her mistress. She knew from talking to other servants on her various errands that she was fortunate to have a sensible and fair Lady to serve. Annie's childhood friend had achieved a position at another large house in their town, and regaled Annie with tales of her fussy, demanding and slightly silly mistress. Annie would listen in silence, amused by the anecdotes and slightly sorry for her friend. It was listening to these stories that made Annie understand the true measure of gentility. In her opinion, there was not a more well-bred woman in the world than Mrs. Starling, and not a person she knew who could hold a candle to her beauty and her manner. Even after Mr. Starling passed away, Mrs. Starling was never short with Annie, never unfair, and still gracious in her requests. Once, Annie caught her dabbing tears from her cheeks, but otherwise no expression of grief could be perceived. The young maid was awed by her mistress's courage, and endeavoured to be just like her.

The carriage rolled out away from the docks, and the noise and bustle began to lessen until the people and buildings where left behind and replaced by fields and hedgerows. Only then did Annie sit back from the window and heave a tired sigh. Clarice sat opposite, her face serene with eyes closed in rest.  
"Miss Clarice?" Annie ventured.  
"Yes Annie." She answered quietly.  
"How is it that you didn't tell that gentleman at the docks that that was your ship he was traveling on?"  
Clarice opened her eyes and looked thoughtful for a second.  
"A _gentleman_ does not approach ladies in that manner, Annie. I thought it best he did not know he worked for me, given that I did not know his character. Do not expect people to take kindly to the new head of the C-Star Company."  
"But Mr. Starling trusted you, ma'am."  
"Mr. Starling was an extraordinary man. I do not know there is another man like him alive." She turned her face to the window and, observing the sudden brightness in her eyes, Annie thought it best to drop the subject for the present.

Enjoying the first relative quiet since leaving America, Clarice kept her eyes closed and tried to rest while she could. They had to stop several nights on the way to Derbyshire, to rest the horses, and to rest themselves. She had an uncertain time ahead of her. John Crawford, Jack to his friends and associates, naturally had his own expectations of her visit, and no matter how hard she thought about it, she just did not think there was a way to shatter those expectations in a gentle manner. Summoning her strength, she began steeling herself for the tasks that lay ahead.

Go to Chapter Two


	3. Chapter Two

DESIRE & DUTY  
by MEL  


INTRODUCTION  
CHAPTER 1  
CHAPTER 2  
CHAPTER 3  
CHAPTER 4  
CHAPTER 5  
TBC 

**DESIRE & DUTY**  


Chapter Two

Given the time it took the Starlings' messenger to traverse the trans-Atlantic distance, Mr. John Crawford had barely a week in which to digest the contents of the letter and dispatch a servant to air out one of the third floor guest rooms, before the rattle of a carriage announced the arrival of their guest. Far from being inconvenienced, Crawford could only be thankful that in this instance the letter had arrived before his guest. Her letter, sealed with red wax in the customary form of business, was intriguing to him. He had met Starling's wife only once, some years ago, upon their wedding day. He remembered her red hair and her luminous skin, but most of all he remembered the way she looked him in the eye. He remembered the inappropriate response his own body had rendered to that look. But he and Starling had been too good as friends, and business associates, to let a woman come between them. He had dallied with other men's wives over the years, Bella being the sickly wife that she was, but Mrs. Starling was always out of bounds. She had been out of reach entirely when they had up and moved to the Americas, her homeland, but a year after they were married.

As the carriage came into view at the end of the drive, he stepped out of the vestibule and into the afternoon sunlight to admire the curricle, drawn by two well-matched bays, in which she arrived. The coachman hopped lightly to the ground and opened the carriage door. Preceded by a young woman, presumably her maid, was Mrs. Clarice Starling. John Crawford unconsciously patted his hair down and tugged at his shirt cuffs. She had barely changed in the seven years since their last meeting. Although her head was covered by a bonnet, strands of fiery red had escape at the nape of her neck and her eyes, as she looked out from under the brim of the hat, were the same pale, piercing eyes he remembered. She was standing in front of him with a bemused look on her face by the time he realized he had been daydreaming.  
"Mrs. Starling." He came to attention and took the gloved hand she offered, raising it. His lips hovered a discreet few inches above her hand for a moment, before he let it go and bowed politely. "How good to see you again. It's been far too long. I regret the circumstances that bring you here, please accept my condolences for your loss."  
"Thank you, Mr. Crawford. I appreciate that." She turned to introduce Annie. "Mr. Crawford this is Annie."  
Unaccustomed to being introduced to the help, Crawford managed a jerky bow, and muttered his name, and a quiet, 'pleased to meet you.' Annie on the other hand, quite used to her mistress's unusual civility, curtseyed deeply,  
"Annie, sir. Annie Benning. An honor, sir."  
Annie stepped back and watched the exchange with interest. As far as she understood, they had no more than a passing acquaintance, but they certainly knew all about one another and were indubitably linked by the business of Mr. Starling. Mr. Crawford seemed a warm, pleasant man, but Annie detected a hint of reserve in her mistress.  
"Now, I would dearly like to catch up with you and Bella, but I fear I carry too much dirt from the journey."  
"Of course, I'm sorry" Crawford quickly remembered his place. "Let me show you to your rooms."

Lowingham was a relatively modest country house, having only three floors and around 100 acres of land. There were a few tenants on the property but none were in view of the main house, and all performed some duty towards the upkeep of the estate. The overseer had a small cottage just beyond a small rise and the other tenants were scattered over the far reaches of the land. Apart from them, the nearest house was an empty manor around five miles away by road. Clarice looked out of the window at the pleasant aspect afforded by her new lodgings, as the servant who had shown them upstairs told her about the estate. She found the seclusion extremely soothing, immersed as she had been for so long, in the bustle and dirt of the cities and towns, as business had required. She had been unwilling to stay for long in her marriage home after her husband had passed on, and had the put their great town house up for sale. For the next year she lived in a hotel in New York, the rooms having nothing to remind her of what she had lost she found herself able to heal more easily, able to get on with the many articles of work that needed attending to without the spectre of her husband's memory to drag her back into unhappiness.

They had moved there in search of a better market on her suggestion, being familiar as she was with New York and Washington, and they had become more successful than they could ever have managed, had they remained in England. Their life together had been charmed, more loving and trusting then she had hoped her marriage would be. She knew how it went, she knew how many came about. One individual of fortune seeking a title, one titled spendthrift looking for an amicable arrangement. Both having commodities desired by the other, the marriage made perfect sense on paper, but invariably came to disharmony and hatred. She thanked god every day for the trust and love she had shared in her marriage, she knew how lucky she was that her husband listened to her, knew her to be intelligent. They discussed business the way many couples discussed the dinner menu. They conversed easily with a mutual respect. Clarice was thankful for the store he placed in her; she could not have borne a less equal footing, knowing herself as she did. It wasn't until the reading of the will and testament that she realized how wholly her husband had embraced her as partner in all. In what promised to be an unpopular decision, he had eschewed tradition and social expectations and entailed his entire estate upon his wife. He had stated that she be left to dictate the leadership of their business, C-Star Holdings, or have complete freedom to appoint whomever she desired. A fresh wave of grief began to well up inside her, but she fought it down, determined to remain strong and do his memory justice. She had grieved long enough. She must move on. And the first order of business was one she imagined John Crawford to be as anxious as she to address.

  


Go to Chapter Three


	4. Chapter Three

DESIRE & DUTY  
by MEL  


INTRODUCTION  
CHAPTER 1  
CHAPTER 2  
CHAPTER 3  
CHAPTER 4  
TBC 

**DESIRE & DUTY**  


Chapter Three

Bella Crawford sat in front of her looking glass. She had been dressed and her hair was now being attended to. She had chosen her best dress for the occasion, a beautiful creation of red silk which had been an expensive gift from her husband from one of his excursions into Europe with the late Charles Starling. The deep red made her look even more pale than usual, and she reached for a brush and some rouge. A hand reached out and caught the brush midway to her cheek.  
"You have no need of such contrivances Bella."  
She smiled weakly, thankfully at her husband.  
"I want to look well for Mrs. Starling. It has been some years since we have met. I hear she looks extremely well."  
"And where did you hear that?" The maid attending Bella slunk away into the shadows.  
"And we have other guests too, as you know." She studiously avoided meeting his eye, but there was a strain to her voice. He sat down next to her at her vanity. Taking her by the shoulders he turned her gently towards him.  
"Bella you are my wife. I love you. Your sickness is not anybody's fault, it is definitely not yours."  
"I hear what people say," she responded. "And I wouldn't be surprised if you if you." She seemed unable to finish the sentence.  
"My dear, you have no need for concern. You are the only woman for me. Mrs. Starling is.well she is an _old friend_ of sorts. She is almost our family - I was best friends with her husband."  
Bella sighed, but it was a relaxed sigh. She did worry so that she was not a good wife, but Jack did seem determined to stand beside her both in public and in private. She understood this was more than many wives enjoyed.  
"And I don't need to remind you how important this meeting is." He continued, seeing she was now at ease. "Somebody must be appointed head of the company here in England now Charles is not around to see everything."  
Bella took a deep breath.  
"Alright," she said. "When are the guests arriving?"  
"Not until 6. I must meet with Mrs. Starling now."

***

The meeting with John (please, call me Jack) Crawford went as well as Clarice could have expected. She saw his face whiten at the first hint that he was not being promoted to overseer of English operations. She kept a pleasant, if tight, smile on her face, but stood her ground. He looked nonplussed at first, as she explained that her husband had entailed everything on her, with full powers. She explained that she had appointed a manager in New York.  
"And I have decided that for the foreseeable future I will remain in England and take care of this branch myself. The organization will stand as my husband left it."  
There, she had said it. Jack was out his promotion and she, well, her position was still up for debate, she could see. Jack's face betrayed a myriad of emotions and thoughts as he processed the information. She could guess at his thoughts. Out of respect for her husband he would not challenge her, but that did not mean he had to like it. It went against everything he knew about the way things were, but still he would not speak up. Clarice saw, then, why he had remained in his slightly lesser position in her husband's business. He would perform his duty as best he could, but had not the intestinal fortitude to challenge anything. His job would be done immaculately, so long as it did not require him to venture outside the lines. As such he had become a very wealthy and very uninfluencial man. She sighed with relief as she realized she had made the correct decision, and scolded herself inwardly for doubting her own mind so much.  
"Jack?" The name felt strange on her tongue. She had not addressed a man other than her husband by his Christian name for many years. He looked up from his shoes.  
"The job you do now is invaluable to me. I need you where you are."  
He nodded, and strangely enough appeared placated.  
"You are right, of course," he said. "Who would do my job, after all?" Before she could answer he offered her his arm, "We have a number of dinner guests who are due within the hour. A few friends and associates from the area. Perhaps we should repair to the drawing room? You can have a cocktail, and meet Bella before our other guests arrive."  


  


Go to Chapter Four


	5. Chapter Four

DESIRE & DUTY  
by MEL  


INTRODUCTION  
CHAPTER 1  
CHAPTER 2  
CHAPTER 3  
CHAPTER 4  
TBC 

**DESIRE & DUTY**  


CHAPTER FOUR

Lowingham's dining room was an exercise in restraint in comparison to the other estate rooms in the house. It was currently in vogue to deck out one's home in the most eye-catching and prominent décor as was available, so that even in the dim candlelight that was usually the norm for assemblies in there, one could always be sure of impressing the guests with style and magnitude of ones fashionable abode. This dining room was quite to the contrary, subtle and understated. Clarice's eyes took in the entire room in a swooping circle, before coming to rest on a handsome woman who had risen from the chaise in greeting. Clarice crossed to her.  
"You must be Bella," she said. "It is so good to see you again after all these years." They shook hands warmly.  
"It has been many years." Bella gestured to the couch and both women sat. "Our guests will be arriving very shortly, but I wanted to take a few minutes for us to meet."  
"Your house is beautiful Bella. How long has it been in your family?"  
Bella started.  
"Why, several hundred years. I wasn't aware that you knew that."  
"My husband told me, long ago." Clarice smiled conspiratorially. Bella looked relieved, and laughed lightly.  
"It is not the kind of news my husband volunteers freely," she said quietly, as if the walls had ears. "His family were also wealthy but he has an elder brother. I, on the other hand, was an only child with very liberal parents."  
"Very clever parents." Clarice interjected. "Entailing the estate away from offspring simply because they are the wrong gender is ludicrous. One can only imagine how many successful family lines and fortunes have been disrupted in this way."  
Bella heaved a huge sigh.  
"Oh my dear Mrs. Starling," Bella sighed. "You have no idea how refreshing your company is. Society in this area can be so confining. Lots of old families with lots of sons and not a broad mind among them!"  
Clarice laughed:  
"That does not bode well for our dinner party!"  
"Oh I exaggerate a little," the older woman looked coy for a second. "They are not all dreadfully dreary. Please do not judge them prematurely on my account. My cousin and her husband will be here"  
"I assure you I will not."

Any other words the two ladies had to say on the subject were cut short when the dining room door opened and Jack entered, followed by a tall, sombre man with a woman on his arm. Bella stood and introduced them as they approached.  
"Mrs. Starling, this is my cousin Alice and her husband Mason Verger."  
Clarice stood and bowed her hellos.  
"It is very good to meet you both."  
Alice Verger was an extremely pretty young thing, all big blue eyes and blonde curls. Mason, she could see, was considerably older. She would not consider him handsome enough for a pretty lady like Alice, but she imagined his bank book made him a whole lot more handsome in some eyes.  
"Do you live nearby?" Clarice offered by way of conversation.  
"Oh no-" Alice began brightly, but was interrupted by Mason.  
"It is a number of hours by coach, much less on horseback. Of course we cannot expect our ladies to submit to such punishment." He smiled a toothy smile and looked her square in the eyes. Clarice did not have time to examine the discomfiture she felt at being so scrutinized by this man, as the door opened and two more guests entered. 

They were obviously not friends or even acquaintances, by the manner in which they entered the room. Clarice's perturbation ratcheted up one notch when she saw who one of the two gentlemen was. Their eyes fell on each other at the exact same point and for a brief, silly moment she wished she could vanish. Paul Krendler crossed the room to the small group of people now assembled. Seeing nobody of consequence enter, Mason Verger withdrew from the group to stand by the fireplace, taking Alice with him.  
"You must be Mrs. Starling," Krendler said. This time she could not resist his taking of her hand.  
"Mr. Krendler, we meet again."  
"You two know one another?" Bella looked delighted.  
"In a manner of speaking, Mrs. Crawford." Krendler said, not taking his eyes from Clarice's. "I met Mrs. Starling at the docks upon her arrival in the country. Seems she did not see fit to disclose her name to me at the time, thought I do not know why that was."  
Clearly the Crawfords and he were going to wait for an answer. Being so completely unable to disclose the truth of her thoughts, Clarice decided to play her poor defenseless lady card.  
"The journey was a very harrowing one, I was not myself at all that day," she smiled generously.  
"Oh I'm sure it was you poor thing," Bella exclaimed. "Is it true that you came all this way by boat, just you and young Annie?"  
"Yes, though it really is not as much of an ordeal as all that. The ship was very comfortable, and I am very much used to the environment given our -" she paused for a split second - "_my_ business."  
"Still, you are very brave. I'm afraid a journey like that would finish me off." Bella laughed her light, tinkling laugh, but her eyes were sad.

"So Jack," Clarice turned to her host. "Who else are we to expect tonight?"  
"Well you didn't meet our local doctor yet."  
The man who had entered with Paul Krendler stepped out from behind Jack Crawford. Clarice had totally forgotten he was there, like so much wallpaper. He had on a wrinkled suit-coat and his hair shone unnaturally in the dim candlelight. His swarthy skin was also much exaggerated by the lighting. He grasped for her hand and his own was clammy.  
"Mrs. Starling! It is an honor beyond words to finally meet you. I have heard much about you from our wonderful host, and hostess," his eyes turned to Bella for a moment, then fixed back on her. "The pleasure is all mine." He was shaking her hand vigorously now.  
"I am glad to meet you too sir. Doctor, was it? Doctor?"  
"Chilton, Dr. Frederick Chilton ma'am."  
Clarice extracted her hand from his and bowed politely.  
"Is our party complete, Bella?"  
"No there is one more gentleman. I believe I heard a coach outside. We are awaiting another Doctor! Are we not lucky to count so many wonderful people amongst our friends and neighbours?"  
"Another Doctor?" Chilton suddenly looked somewhat uncomfortable. "You have invited Dr. Lecter?"  
"Why yes!" Bella gushed. "You two must have much to talk about, being in your similar professions."  
"Not as much as you'd think," Chilton replied weakly, and with an insipid smile he bowed out of the group and went to introduce himself to Paul Krendler.  
"Doctor Lecter is such a character," Bella said quietly to Clarice. "He's from the continent, you know, somewhere very far away is all I can remember of that. But he is very learned, and an unusually handsome man for his age. He writes, I think, but nobody knows where his money comes from or how much he has a year."  
"Thank you Bella," Clarice laughed, "That was a very thorough summation indeed. Except you forgot the bit about his wife."  
"Oh he is unmarried, though everyone believes he must propose to Miss DuBerry sooner or later. They have been linked for a very long time."  
"And Miss DuBerry would be?"  
Bella did not have time to answer that particular question, as the door opened and in came the gentleman in question.

Bella was right, he was handsome. His eyes quickly took in the guests scattered around the dining room before they settled very firmly, to Clarice's consternation, on her. A smile played over his features and his eyes bore into hers. Evidently, he knew who she was. Clarice suddenly felt at a loss for the first time in her trip. She looked around for Bella but she had moved off to talk to her cousin. Clarice swallowed hard and directed her gaze back to Dr. Lecter. He cocked his head to the side in salutation, and then his eyes slid off her as he turned to greet Jack Crawford. She felt naked, as if he had looked at her and automatically known a million things about her. Everybody else who had come to dinner tonight had made a beeline for her, come to inspect the famous Mrs. Starling, curiosity that she was. This man, on the other hand, had made it clear he knew of her presence, and had then proceeded to completely ignore her. She was amused to find herself a little put out, and laughed as she chastised herself.

"Are you alright me dear?" Bella had returned to her side.  
"Oh yes, I am quite well. I was just inspecting the handsome Dr. Lecter. I was hoping to be introduced to this erudite neighbour but he has become busy with your husband."  
"Do not fret about that," Bella assured her. "You will have ample chance to make his acquaintance as you are seated next to him at dinner."  
Before Clarice could assimilate that information, Dr. Lecter appeared before her, offering his arm.  
"I believe dinner is served, and Bella tells me I am to escort you to the table." His voice was velvet soft, and his manner and demeanour seemed out of place in the somewhat strange gathering. "I must apologise for not introducing myself sooner, but I am positive that you are already aware of my name, as I am of yours." He smiled his devilish smile once more and Clarice felt a flutter of something in her stomach, and found herself unable to do anything but smile and allow herself to be led to her seat.  


  


To Be Continued


	6. Chapter Five

DESIRE & DUTY  
by MEL  


INTRODUCTION  
CHAPTER 1  
CHAPTER 2  
CHAPTER 3  
CHAPTER 4  
CHAPTER 5  
TBC 

**DESIRE & DUTY**  


CHAPTER FIVE

Dinner began with a delicate soup followed by a number of roasted meat dishes, including venison, a roast saddle of mutton and stewed beef. These dished were accompanied by a great variety of vegetables with sauces and condiments aplenty. Everybody toasted the host and hostess for their abundant and generous table and tucked in.  
"So Dr. Lecter," Clarice felt her confidence return amid the murmur of conversation that ensued. "Do you live close by?"  
"Yes I live but five miles away at the neighbouring estate." He replied.  
"I was informed that the house was unoccupied," she said in surprise. "What is the name of your home?"  
"The estate is named Griffinsburne, but I do not own the property. I am a tenant on the land."  
"Oh, I see."  
"You mean you have been told that I am a gentleman of means, of course." He responded, teasing. Clarice felt herself redden a touch. His proximity was unsettling, his elbow brushed hers and she tried not to jump. She took a deep breath and tried to put his delicious neglect of polite conversation to the back of her mind.  
"That's not what I-"  
A gentleman does not always find himself in need of a grand home, but he does often find himself in need of privacy and solitude."  
"Oh, I I mean to say thatyes, I understand completely." A lady could have no answer for such an ambiguous statement, but for all her efforts, Clarice found herself not entirely successful in quashing the unladylike feelings that he engendered in her. This dinner party was looking up with every passing minute. Perhaps she wasn't to be subjected to the social mill after all.  
"It is a tenancy of generous proportions, I must confess." He continued, letting her off the hook. "I do also enjoy the creature comforts. I am not inclined to deny myself the things that I want."  
Again, even if Clarice had an answer for these veiled suggestions, their situation bade her stay quiet. She was very adept at such gatherings, a well-practiced socialite, well-versed in speaking many words but not saying much. She knew all the responses, all the polite, leading questions to make people feel at ease and open up, knew the responses that were expected of her to each and every one of the polite conversational questions she would be asked. However after just five minutes conversation with Dr. Lecter she felt a little out of her depth at this dinner party. It was not an unwelcome feeling, she had to admit.  
"Mrs. - er, Mrs. Starling!?" Dr. Frederick Chilton caught her attention from across the table. "Mrs. Starling, how are you finding England so far? How do you enjoy Derbyshire?"  
"I find England delightful, the land in this part of the country is quite beautiful. You are all exceedingly lucky to live here." The chorus of murmurs and agreements was cut through by Chilton's voice as he asked another question.  
"Mr. Krendler here tells me that your business is thriving." His smile did not reach his eyes. Krendler's lip curled in a smirk, and she thought he winked at her. She heard Lecter emit something like a quiet hum. She glanced at him and he was looking intently at Krendler.  
"Oh! What business is your family in Miss?" Alice piped up from next to Mason, and earned herself a disapproving glance from her husband.  
"Well, it's just me now Mrs. Verger, but my business is ships. I own lots of ships." Clarice said pleasantly.  
"Ships!" said Alice brightly. "That's super!"  
"We started as importers - pepper, silk, spices," she said. "Furs and leathers, and other similar items."  
Bella spoke up from her position opposite Jack at the head of the table.  
"This very dress I wear tonight is made from silk that Jack and Charles brought back from a trip." Clarice's brow furrowed only minutely at the mention of her husband's name before she put a smile on her face and joined the table in admiring Bella's frock.  
"How do you find you manage the business without your husband, Mrs. Starling?" Chilton continued to speak overly loudly.  
"I manage tolerably, Doctor." It was her turn to smile with her teeth only.  
"I find your situation fascinating, I'm sure you understand," he said greasily. "Surely there are certain things.?" He trailed off.  
"I'm sure Mrs. Starling manages perfectly well, Fred." Paul Krendler slapped Chilton on the back, overly familiar given the brevity of their acquaintance. "I work for her, remember? The business runs smooth as silk." Something in Krendler's grin told her that he wasn't as comfortable with the situation as he was suggesting. This whole conversation was getting a little threatening under the surface. Chilton just did not know when to close his mouth, and Krendlerwell, he was someone to watch closely, at the very least. She had not come into this situation blinkered. She knew that her position and her determination to hold onto it would make her unpopular in some circles; what she was not prepared for was the intense and none too friendly scrutiny she was being subjected to.  
"Well," Bella said cheerfully, as if nothing at all had transpired. "Mrs. Starling, tomorrow Jack has given me leave to take the coach and show you some properties in the area."  
"You are staying?" Mason Verger spoke his first words of the whole meal.  
"Yes sir," Clarice replied. "Everything is taken care of at home for the time being, and I need the change of scenery as much as the company needs me here now."  
"Wonderful!" squeaked Alice.  
"Yes, that is something," added Krendler, again with the suggestive tone. "What properties are you looking at?"  
"I do not know that, Mr. Krendler, Bella has been kind enough to take care of that for me."  
"Well there are only three vacancies in the area," Bella told the table. "One is very far away, though."  
"You should definitely look at Griffinsburne. I can give you a tour of the grounds." Dr. Lecter spoke unexpectedly. He had seemed to opt out of the dinner conversation for the most part. Clarice looked at him gratefully. It seemed he knew when to steer conversation back into the polite sphere, as well as work outside it.  
"That is very generous," Clarice thanked him "As long as you assure me we are not trespassing on your time or privacy." She could not help adding. Lecter looked delighted at being teased so. Clarice felt a delicious frisson in the depths of her stomach and could not help but smile back.  
"The pleasure will be all mine." Was all he said, and Clarice could not tell him that that might not be entirely true.

After-dinner drinks were served once the table had been cleared and the guests began milling around the spacious room. Bella approached Clarice as she stood near the fireplace admiring a portrait.  
"That is my father," Bella informed her proudly. "A great man. I miss him very much."  
"I'm sure you do." Clarice agreed.  
"Anyhow, I just wanted to say goodnight. I must retire, I am simply exhausted. I have not been in the best of health these past two years. I want to be well-rested for our outing tomorrow. You are simply going to love Griffinsburne!"  
"The place is so old, Bella," drawled a voice behind them. They turned to see Krendler regarding them both. "I'm sure Mrs. Starling would like something a little more." He paused to choose his word. "A little more luxuriant? She is a woman of means after all, why should she not have the best?" He smiled broadly. Bella looked disheartened.  
"Well perhaps he is correct, I was really only thinking about having you close by."  
"Don't be silly Bella, I'm sure Griffinsburne is delightful." She said shortly. The smile melted from Krendler's face.  
"I meant no disrespect ma'am, I was merely hoping to suggest a more appropriate residence for your stay in the area. I have a number of properties in mind and I would be delighted to escort you to any one of them for a visit."  
"I'm sure I shall be able to decide for myself what is appropriate, sir." Clarice forced a smile but there was no mistaking her meaning. Krendler's face dropped from chastened to sour. He clicked his heels and moved off, without another word. As he drifted away, Dr. Lecter drew near. Clarice found herself wishing for his eyes to fall upon her, as he spoke to Bella.  
"Your husband informs me you are retiring for the evening, Mrs. Crawford, and I wanted to extend my thanks for a wonderful evening." Bella glowed happily. Jack appeared to see her upstairs, and they said their goodnights. Clarice was disappointed when Dr. Lecter added his farewell.  
"Until tomorrow, Mrs. Starling."  
She extended her hand and he took it. She hoped there was nobody witnessing the extraordinary length of time he held her hand to his lips, nor her swelling intake of breath and delicious frisson his attentions caused in her. She exercised great restraint in not exhaling audibly. He raised his eyes as he let go of her hand and she saw he was smiling - not a pleasant, salutary smile, but a sultry and almost lascivious smile. She would have slapped the face of any gentleman wearing that expression, but she was mesmerized by his eyes, pupils dilated to display mirror-like black discs. She began to entertain thoughts she never believed she would have again in her lifetime.  
"Until tomorrow," she breathed, and he was gone. Knowing not what else to do with herself, Clarice decided to retire to her rooms also. Despite the grand comfort of her quarters, it was some time that evening before she attained restful sleep.  


  


  


To Be Continued


	7. Chapter 6

DESIRE & DUTY  
by MEL  


INTRODUCTION  
CHAPTER 1  
CHAPTER 2  
CHAPTER 3  
CHAPTER 4  
CHAPTER 5  
CHAPTER 6  
TBC 

**DESIRE & DUTY**  


Chapter Six

The sun shone bright in the east-facing window of Clarice's room the next morning. She had been awake to watch it rise, and now sat, awaiting a suitable hour in which to wake Annie so she could bathe. Her mind was occupied with thoughts of the house she was going to see today, and with thoughts of the tenant on that land. Doctor Lecter had certainly left a mark on her consciousness, more so than the other guests who had tried so hard to impress themselves upon her. A thin wraith of smoke was visible far into the distance, and she wondered briefly if that was him, his house. She enjoyed thinking of him for a moment, his refreshing personality, before her sensibilities caught up with her and she put him from her mind. She was a widow, she told herself, in mourning and with no rights to entertain such thoughts. _But it has been so long_ she offered herself a counter-argument, and was forced into a stalemate. What turn these thoughts would have taken she could not discover for the time being, as a rapping at the bedroom door announced that Annie was awake.

Bathed and dressed, Clarice made her way downstairs to breakfast with Bella before they went out to Griffinsburne. Seated at the dining room table, however, was Jack alone.

Good morning! he said brightly.  
Good morning, she echoed his salutation as she sat. I must say I am in great anticipation of this outing today. I heard only wonderful things about the house from our company at dinner yesterday.  
Jack looked pained for a second and then spoke.  
I am afraid Bella asks me to send her apologies, Mrs. Starling. She is not herself today – she begs your forgiveness but she is unable to accompany you out this morning.  
Clarice said, a little disheartened. She had been looking forward to spending some time alone with Bella.  
We can reschedule, Jack said, for a few days time.  
Please do not put yourself to any trouble. I would like to keep the engagement – I will go alone, and Bella can come and view the next property with me.  
Very well, Jack hid his disapproval well, she thought. My horses are at your disposal. Now if you will excuse me, he rose from his seat. I have much business that needs attending to this morning. Good day, ma'am.  
And with that he was gone. Clarice felt a little bewildered – something she said? Her trip out alone was not the issue, she felt, there was something else she could not put her finger on. She finished her light breakfast and made to call Annie and then thought better of it. Perhaps the ticket for today would be some solitude. It taxed her memory to recall the last time she was truly alone for any length of time, and she fixed upon the plan of taking the short trip by herself.

A little less than an hour later she was leaving Lowingham in the Barouche box; as she was traveling only a short distance the lighter, faster carriage seemed appropriate, sacrificing some comfort for speed and a little style. She pulled back the window dressings to allow the fresh air to circulate and to afford herself a view of the local scenery. They passed out of Lowingham's gates and along a tree-lined pathway, where she delighted in the dappled shadows and the scent of the greenery all around. It was not long before her driver called out to her that they were approaching the estate.

Griffinsburne gatehouse, ma'am! he called, and she leaned a little out of the window, to see a small gatehouse and a pair of large posts whip by. Atop the posts were two stylized griffins, carved into the stone. The gravel driveway crunched beneath the wheels of the small carriage, and Clarice sighed deeply as she finally felt herself beginning to relax. About ten minutes later they were slowly drawing to a halt and the main house came into view. She could not help but smile happily to herself. In the mid-morning sunlight the house rose before her, the sandstone warm in color and smooth to her eye. A large portico and doorway drew the gaze to the center of the façade, flanked on either side by 3 pairs of windows of generous proportions. The upper story was also dominated by large mullioned windows, and in the center above the main entrance, a large semi-circular balcony completed the handsome architecture.

The footman opened her door and Clarice gratefully stepped out and stretched her legs.  
Housekeeper'll be out directly I imagine, ma'am. She's expecting the visit. The man bowed and went to tend his horses. Sure enough, the great oak doors opened and a dark-haired older woman came out to greet the visitor.  
You must be Mrs. Starling. I'm the housekeeper here, Miss. Smith, at your service ma'am.  
It is very good to meet you Miss Smith, Clarice shook the woman's hand. I am looking forward to viewing the house.  
If you don't mind ma'am, I have to just attend to something in the kitchen, and then I'll be back directly to escort you around.  
That's quite alright, Clarice responded. Would you mind if I wandered around a little while I wait?  
Oh not at all ma'am. I'll be as quick as I can. And with that the housekeeper bustled off back through the huge oak doors into the house, leaving Clarice alone once more.

There was an arbor running down one side of the building that looked inviting, and so she set off in that direction down a pleasantly landscaped walkway that took her around the back of the house. The grounds were a wonderful surprise to Clarice, nature and civilization seemed to meet in perfect harmony in the neat and yet unfussy garden. She continued to walk down a path leading away from the main house towards a wooded area some distance hence, until she could turn back and take in the house from this new angle.  
she breathed. Being mistress of Griffinsburne might just be something.  
A twig cracked sharply behind her and she whirled around in surprise to see Doctor Lecter emerging from the trees close behind her. Her heart leapt into her throat and she willed herself to settle.  
It is impressive, is it not? He drew close and stood to regard the house with her. Very few people can deny the beauty of this property.  
Yes, it is very attractive, she forced her voice level. Her racing heart was simply the result of his sudden entrance, she told herself.  
I am exceedingly surprised it is not let yet, he went on, seemingly oblivious to how he had caught her off-guard. He turned to look her in the eye, then. And how are you this fine morning?  
I am very well, Doctor. I was not expecting to see you here.  
As I gather, he said, now expressing his awareness that he had startled her. Maddeningly forthright this man was, and Clarice longed to laugh with relief. She smiled, but did not answer.  
You do not seem afraid of me. He said into the quiet that followed, his voice only interested, not challenging.  
I am not afraid of you. She confirmed, not taking her eyes from the house. You have done nothing to worry me thus far in our acquaintance. He hummed in response. She stole a glance sideways, he looked amused. Should I be concerned? she added.  
he sighed, Only if you imagine that by speaking an honest word your virtue is compromised.  
You forget I was married for many years doctor, my virtue is the least of my worries now, she quipped, good-naturedly. This earned his full attention, and he turned to face her fully.  
Mrs. Starling you are a curious creature. His eyes, bright, bore into hers and she felt herself colouring despite her age and experience.  
Most people I have met thus far in England seem to think so. She met his eyes and refused to look away. Her heart bumbled in uneven rhythm.  
Ah, I think you are curious for reasons quite different to those bourgeois clods. He turned back to look at the view of the gardens. Clarice felt emboldened.  
And you, Doctor, you do not seem threatened by me. She did not have to look at him this time to sense his pleasure, as he chuckled lightly at this.  
I am not threatened by a powerful woman. Those friends of Crawford - poor disenfranchised souls clinging to the hard and fast rules simply because they have not the loaf to imagine any other way.  
You see a lot Doctor, Clarice felt at once fevered and chilled by his words.  
You saw it too, you have no need to lie.  
I did not lie, she countered. A mere fact of omission.  
I think I am going to enjoy having you as a neighbour very much, Mrs. Starling.  
How did you know I had decided to take the house? I have not even seen inside as yet!  
As you say, ma'am, I see a lot.  
Clarice allowed herself to be dumbfounded. She was excited for reasons she could not yet fathom, just to be in close proximity to this man. Decorum told her she should distance herself, but her gut wanted more. Reason, she noticed, interjected no wisdom at this time.  
The house is ready to be occupied, he said, as though they had merely been discussing the weather. It is ready whenever you are. He added slowly. Clarice felt her stomach flip over and remonstrated herself for being so wanton.  
I shall speak to the housekeeper directly.  
In that case, allow me to escort you back to the house. He offered his arm, and she gratefully took it, a safe way to sample him in close quarters, she thought wickedly. She was delighted when he covered her hand on his arm with his own, and together they took the path back to the house.

The housekeeper was standing on the front steps when they emerged from the arbor pathway. She did not seem surprised to see her companion.  
There you are ma'am, I see the good Doctor found you.  
Good day, Miss Smith. Lecter bowed curtly. Here I will leave you in Miss Smith's capable hands, he said, turning to Clarice. But I assume I will be seeing more of you soon? He took her hand and politely made his goodbyes. The second the housekeeper turned to re-enter the house however, his expression changed from polite interest to one of definite lasciviousness, that grabbed Clarice by the gut. He pulled her hand up higher and his lips made contact with the ungloved appendage. Automatically, she jerked her hand back but he held tight and would not relinquish his grip.  
Doctor Lecter, she breathed, her eyes wide, fixed upon him.  
  
The pleasure was all mine. She whispered. His surprised glee enabled her to take back her hand and turn for the door. When she turned to look over her shoulder at him as she entered the house, he was standing stock-still in the same spot, a smile fixed on his features. He held her gaze for a moment before mock-saluting her and moving off in the direction from whence they had walked, the same smile still on his lips.

To Be Continued


	8. Chapter Seven

DESIRE & DUTY  
by MEL  


INTRODUCTION  
CHAPTER 1  
CHAPTER 2  
CHAPTER 3  
CHAPTER 4  
CHAPTER 5  
CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7  
CHAPTER 8  
TBC 

**DESIRE & DUTY**  


Chapter Seven

His lips came down upon Clarice's hand, and this time they did not politely peck and leave. He gripped her hand in his, astonishing strength suggested in the iron grip, and he inhaled. He inhaled deeply. The sensuality of the gesture was not lost on Clarice, whose breast rose in tandem with his. He raised his eyes to hers and drew her close, closer. She felt his broad chest brush against her crinolined and corseted front, and rashly wished the intrusive attire gone. Being a dream, being her own dream, this wish was miraculously granted, and half-awake and trying to retain the delicious scenario in her stirring mind, she gloried in his pupils, dilating to replace blood-red with the deepest black. Dr. Lecter reached out one hand and caressed her face, her throat, traced her collarbone and began to meander his attentions downwards. She felt her eyes begin to roll back in her head with the breathtaking arousal he was engendering in her, when his attentions changed abruptly he seized her to him, crushing her in his embrace. One hand reached back to clutch a handful of titian hair and force her head backwards. Those long-considered lips descended on her throat, and she was powerless to do anything but cry out in pleasure as he kissed her roughly, teeth discernible in the attentions.

Clarice awoke with a sheen on her brow and a deep aching in her loins. She lay for a few minutes, listening to her breathing, ragged but slowing. She did not analyse her intentions too closely, merely accepted this new development. Nobody would have reproached her for taking another husband years before now, it was not propriety that need trouble her. She was not sure she wanted another husband, but she terribly missed a man in her life; that was the issue for propriety to bend its wit around. Times were changing, it was true, but she did not imagine for a second that while a woman was grudgingly accepted as head of a company she helped build, she would be permitted to take a lover in the same way as men did every day, unspoken but tacitly accepted. Men had needs after all.

Having successfully defeated her own plan to stay abed a while longer and dwell upon the dream while she still recalled the finer details, she irritably threw her legs over the side of the bed and went to attend to her toilette. The physical remnants of her dream lingered however, and she mellowed somewhat. She would figure something out. She wandered to the window and looked out over her new see. The house was a perfectly average estate for the area, but it glowed with new significance this morning. Although it had been some time since she had been required, or had indeed desired, to woo a man, it was with no small spark of excitement that she dressed for the day. Bella was a wonderful source for inside information on all and sundry, and the news that Dr. Lecter never missed the London scene now seemed like the best news in the world; for this day was the day chosen by Bella and Jack to take their final leave of Lowingham, and Derbyshire in general, as the winter season was upon the fine folk of England and those with the means were excitedly flocking to London to begin the well-orchestrated social networking that occupied the life of the upper echelons of polite society this time of year. Keen to introduce her new American friend to the joys of the London season, Bella had ensured that Clarice agree to spend the winter in the city, and helpfully assisted in securing a town house not far from the Crawfords' own. Clarice had managed to fend off the offer of a joint ride down to London in the Crawfords' coach, insisting that as she would need her own transport in London anyway, she would accompany her own horses and driver to London. A light knock on her bedroom door told Clarice that Annie was up and ready to leave. Suppressing a grin, she answered the young girl with an airy "Enter!" and prepared to take leave of her new home.

***

Having seen only the veritable guts of London at the dockyards, Clarice was avidly awaiting her first views of London in some twenty years. The city was busier and more crowded, buildings jostled for place and primacy in the narrower streets. Passing Temple Bar and Charing Cross, Clarice was not sorry to see the streets begin to widen a little, and the West End - hub of social glamour - begin to reveal itself to her. The house they eventually pulled up to, at a respectable mid-morning hour, was at the very end of Park Lane. The Crawfords, her driver assured her, were already in residence at their London home, a few short miles north in Marylebone. She took the half-flight of steps up to the glossy blue front doors and the door opened before her, giving the lie to the expectant staff within. The building was a typical London townhouse, four stories and narrow. She eschewed a guide and took off to explore the house alone. The ground floor housed a parlour and a library on either side of the tiled hallway, well-appointed yet clinically clean and neat, mainly for waiting guests she supposed. The staircase to the upper floors ran directly through the center of the house on this level, and led to the first floor - a dining room, a smaller library and a sitting room. The second floor was Clarice's favourite. The bedroom was lush and filled with deep-hued silks and swags, the sinfully soft bed a central point in this, the most characterful and homely of rooms in this house that felt like a hotel. The third floor was a great surprise and delight to the new mistress, a glass-ceilinged, tile-floored arboretum, with vast views across London. Clarice relaxed into an easy chair and enjoyed for a while the breeze that came through the open windows, until the biting chill of it announced all too clearly that the English winter was well underway.

A timid knock at the door revealed Annie, who entered carrying a small brass tray.  
"Your calling cards ma'am," Annie announced. "You've certainly had a lot of callers already!"  
"Really?" Clarice began to rifle through the cards, recognizing almost none of the names. The ones she did recall included Mr Krendler (she tried not to grimace too plainly) and one Rachel DuBerry. Most others were gentleman callers she was as yet unacquainted with. She looked through the short stack a second time, but she did not find the one card she had been hoping to.  
"Did anybody see Ms. DuBerry when she came to visit, Annie?"  
"Mrs. Brown says she answered the door to her yesterday, and that she was surprised not to find you here yet, and that she will await your call. Mrs. Brown is the housekeeper." Annie added at Clarice's blank look.  
"Tell me, Annie, just how many staff does this house retain?"  
"The landlord retains twelve full time staff, but Bella Crawford reduced the number to four when she arranged the place for you. She said she knows you like it quiet."  
"Four eh? Well tell all four that they are dismissed until tomorrow morning."  
"Ma'am?" Annie questioned, "Everyone?"  
"I believe I can fend for myself for one evening."  
Annie blushed,  
"That's not what I meant. So.. till the morning?" She appeared to brighten as the idea sunk in. "I'll be delighted to tell them!" She bowed excitedly and ducked out to bring the good tidings to the household.

An hour later Clarice was relaxing in a deep bath. After lugging one very heavy bucket of water up the four flights of stairs from basement to bathroom, she had discovered the dumb waiter. While not afraid of the exercise, it was a much more agreeable task to make several runs with the small lift, than spend all day trailing up and down until she was fit to drop. The fact that she could have had one of the housemaids draw her bath was exactly the reason she chose to do it herself this time. This lavish dwelling had made Clarice feel a little guilty, a little cosseted and a little silly. The time on her own was partly for privacy and solitude, and partly just so she could ground herself a little, take care of herself for a while. She mused absently on the fact of her being in London now, and how out of time and place she was feeling with all the upheavals in her life the past several years. She refused to feel glum about her circumstances, rejected any notion that she was badly done to or unfortunate in any fashion. She achieved a small nirvana in her little bathtub, worrying of nothing and thinking of everything.

Having made such a drama out of filling the tub in the first place, Clarice stayed until the water was barely tepid and her fingers and toes were ridged and wrinkled. Pulling on an old muslin frock, soft and worn, she ventured out downstairs, barefoot, intending to head towards the library and perhaps find a volume to immerse herself in for a few hours. As she set foot on the ground floor, there was a loud knock at the door. Peeking through the window Clarice saw a young boy, standing next to a huge basket of flowers that reached almost beyond his own height.  
"Delivery!" he yelled, to nobody in particular, in the general direction of the house. She cracked the door and peered out at him.  
"Delivery for Ms. Starling, from Mrs. Crawford," he said, picking up the basket and handing it through the door to her. "Beautiful flowers missus," he said, a cheeky grin on his face. She thanked him profusely and he touched his cap in a mock-salute and turned to leave. It was then that Clarice realized a visitor had mounted the steps behind him, and she silently, inwardly, cursed that she had not retained one person that day to answer the door and declare Ms. Starling 'not at home to visitors.'

Paul Krendler fixed a leery smile on his face as he took in her attire.  
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Starling, I see you are at home after all. I did call earlier but nobody cared to answer the door to me."  
"Er, yes, my staff are all out today."  
"Off and left you all alone?" he affected a polite horror at this inconvenience. "Why you must allow me to assist you in that case." And with that he occasioned his entry into her home.  
"You must allow me a few moments to take care of something upstairs," she said quickly, wishing she could fold in on herself and hide her disarray from him. "Please take a seat in the library and I will be with you directly." Without waiting for an answer she took off up the stairs as quickly as she could manage without bounding up them two at a time.

She rushed into her bedroom and tore the old gown off over her head, and threw open the doors of the armoire to select a more appropriate outfit. Selecting her most prudish, plain number she turned to pull out some underwear and swallowed a shriek as she spied Krendler in the doorway to her room, now pretending to avert his eyes.  
"Mr Krendler!" she ground out, almost speechless, "What on earth are you-?"  
"Please accept my apologies ma'am," he cut her off, still theatrically looking anywhere but at her, "Your appearance in the lobby worried me and I wondered was something wrong and did you perhaps need my assistance!" The phony concern and self-effacement in his tone made her sick to her stomach.  
"I am perfectly fine, sir, now please, leave!"  
Forgoing further invention, he retreated out onto the landing, and she flew to the door and slammed it.  
"I'll just be in the library then, ma'am." She heard his parting words as he began down the stairs.  
Clarice censored the outburst that hug on her tongue to a bewildered '_Goodness sake._' just in case he hadn't actually left and mistook her expletives for more requests for 'help.' Quickly pulling on the new dress, she buttoned it to her neck, yanked her hair back into a severe knot and pulled on ankle-jacks. She hastened down the stairs then stopped and took a deep breath, set her face, and entered the library.

Rather than sitting, she chose to stand for this interview, and swept past him to stand by the fireplace.  
"Good afternoon Mr. Krendler," she started. Cutting off his attempted '_I'm so sorry please forgive my ignorance_' she continued. "I think it best if we both agree to forget this incident, sir, on your understanding that if I am ever in need of assistance, rest assured, I am well within my capabilities to ask for it."  
"Of course," he bowed his head in assent. She thought she saw him smirk. _Snake_.   
"Yes, well, in any case, what can I do for you today?"  
"It was meant to be a social call, Mrs Starling, I did leave my card for you a number of days ago."  
"Well I'm afraid this is a most inconvenient time, given that I cannot offer you the hospitality I could if my full staff were present." _Please let him take the hint and leave._ As soon as the words were out of her mouth, however, she realized that may have been the worst thing to remind him of. His features took on a feral, guarded look. A beat of silence followed as he seemed to weigh some decision.  
"I don't know many ladies who take visitors alone, ma'am."  
"Yes well," she retorted irritably, "I'm hardly a defenseless young maiden sir."  
"All I'm saying is, even a defenseless young maiden wouldn't be seen to be alone with a gentleman, if she had a mind to her honour." The conversation had turned deathly sour in an instant; Clarice felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.  
"Kindly restrain your observations in my presence, I do not care for them," she said, not too weakly she hoped. She was glad she had remained standing, but she had crossed the room so he now sat between herself and the door, she realised belatedly.  
"You have no need to keep up this pretense with me," he stood, uncoiling from his seat, serpent-like. She raised her chin as he approached, but stood her ground. She only moved when he raised a hand to caress her face; jerking back she slapped his hand away.  
"Whatever pretense you have in mind _you are mistaken!_" she growled through gritted teeth. In response he gripped her by the wrist and held her tightly.  
"I know what you want," he said into her ear as she squirmed to extricate herself from his grasp.  
"Unhand me!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, but he merely grabbed her other wrist and held tight, tighter as she began to struggle violently. She fought him hard, pulling back from him with all the strength she could muster. Something tangled in her feet as she wrenched one hand away from him and she felt herself falling back; he reached out and grabbed wildly for her and snagged her arm as she hit the floor. A sickening pain tore through her shoulder and she cried out in pain. Krendler descended on her, the lascivious expression he had worn now replaced with one of real fear. She yelled for him to stay away, but before he could reach for her the library door burst open and he sprang to his feet, startled.

In the doorway, Dr. Hannibal Lecter took in the scene before him and Clarice saw his face blacken and shuddered. She felt a curious mix of wild thankfulness at being rescued and a deep sense of foreboding, his presence elementally heavy. Krendler seemed momentarily at a loss, and when the Doctor cocked his head evidently in request of an explanation he sputtered:  
"Mrs. Starling wasn't feeling wellshe er she took a fall, I I think she's hurt."  
"I heard Mrs. Starling yell for you to unhand her." Lecter's quiet voice cut through the sudden stillness he had brought with him.  
"Yes well - well it's really none of your business now is it?" Krendler dared.  
"Mrs. Starling? Would you like Mr. Krendler to leave?" he ignored the man's veiled threat. Clarice wanted to warn the Doctor to be careful, but pain clouded her consciousness and she merely nodded, and remained sitting on the edge of the hearth where she had fallen.  
"The lady appears to wish your departure," Lecter said cordially. It all happened so quickly Clarice almost missed it. Lecter moved to take Krendler's elbow, who, thinking to assert dominance in some random male fashion, yanked his arm away and swung for the shorter man. Lecter dodged the bow fluidly and lightning fast, brought up the heel of his hand to impact Krendler's jaw. He folded like a concertina. Lecter then merely picked him up by the scruff of the neck as if he were as light as a feather and escorted him out of the library. Clarice heard the front door close and then the Doctor was back in the library, dropping to a crouch beside her.  
"Are you hurt?" he said anxiously, his eyes moving over her face, his own expression grave.  
"I think I hurt my shoulder," she managed weakly, wanting for all the world to burst into tears in some kind of belated surprise.  
"May I?" Lecter's hands hovered over her shoulder. She nodded mutely and closed her eyes against the pain his manipulation of her shoulder caused. "I think you may have dislocated your shoulder. Here, let me help you up."  
He reached around her waist and pulled her to a standing position. She lolled against him, and tried to prop herself up, apologising.  
"You are in a little shock, Mrs. Starling," he lowered her onto the chaise, "there is nothing to apologise for."  
She muffled a pained laugh as she reclined. "You must call me Clarice, I think we are beyond formalities now."  
"Very well Clarice," he sat before her on the short couch. "As a further measure of our acquaintance, I can mend your shoulder but will need to unbutton your dress."  
Clarice started, her eyes wide she searched his face for some ill-placed humour or skewed intent and found none. Rather than waiting for her to verbalise her assent, he merely set about his work with all the detachment of a doctor. Clarice chastised herself for doubting him, but then all coherent thought left her head as he deftly unbuttoned the neck of her dress and his hands descended hot upon her skin. Was there something wrong with her? This man was trying to heal her, an honourable man had just ridden to her rescue and all she could think were thoughts that would surely shame him. All imaginings of the sensuality of the situation however, were swiftly driven from her mind as he applied a slight pressure to her injured shoulder. Tears of pain jumped into her eyes and she bit back a pained yelp.  
"I'm afraid this is going to hurt, but only for a moment." She nodded in reply and kept his gaze. The pain of the relocation was intense but, as he promised, short-lived. His hands lingered, testing the joint and flesh, and his gaze did not waver from hers, his pupils dilating. Clarice felt light-headed. She swallowed in a suddenly dry mouth and succumbed to the overwhelming urge. She reached up and gripped him around his neck, bringing his mouth down to hers.

Her brain reeled behind her closed lids as his lips moved over hers, warm and unexpectedly soft. His hand on her shoulder caressed her lightly, a feather-light touch that moved suggestively downwards and then was gone. She broke away, breathless, in belated control of herself.  
"I I'm so sorry Doctor," she turned away, mortified at her lack of restraint. In response he reached out one hand and gently turned her face back to him. She caught her breath as she imagined sparks in those strange eyes. He leaned in and brushed his lips ever so softly, so slowly across hers, a butterfly kiss, more erotic than the hardest, most determined attentions.  
"You have no need of apologies with me." His voice was low and barely audible. "I think perhaps the afternoon's events have excited your composure. Infinitely to my benefit, may I be so bold as to add." His eyes danced and Clarice breathed a puff of a laugh and relaxed.  
"Thank you, Doctor."  
"I -" he began, and was interrupted by a loud banging from the front door. His face betrayed the barest hint of irritation which he blinked away. He reached out and began to rebutton her dress. She lay back and watched him, wishing they could remain in this tableau indefinitely. To say he intrigued her was a gross understatement, she felt drawn as if by powerful magnetic force.  
"I'm afraid the site of Mr. Krendler bleeding on your steps may have aroused some interest in the neighbourhood. That is likely somebody come to check on you." As he finished speaking they heard a lady's voice calling Clarice by name. Understanding she would not soon have such an opportunity alone with Lecter, Clarice fumbled for her voice but was unable to come up with anything to say. Lecter smiled lopsidedly at her and nodded as if in supernatural understanding.  
"I fear if I do not open the door soon, Mrs Crawford may have the door broken down."  
The voice at the front door, now grown louder, was unmistakeably Bella.   
"Please remain where you are. I shall open the door and take my leave. You will be in wonderful hands." He reached out and touched her lips, lingering, his hand drawing away in a grasping motion. Finally, he stood and made his leave. "I will be back."  


To Be Continued


	9. Chapter Eight

DESIRE & DUTY  
by MEL  


INTRODUCTION  
CHAPTER 1  
CHAPTER 2  
CHAPTER 3  
CHAPTER 4  
CHAPTER 5  
CHAPTER 6   
CHAPTER 7  
CHAPTER 8  
TBC 

**DESIRE & DUTY**  


Chapter Eight

Clarice slumped back into the chaise, now emotionally drained as well as physically. She heard muted voices in the hallway as Lecter filled in Bella Crawford on recent events. Bella's insistent questioning faded to silence and then the front door closed quietly and she came hastily into the library. Clarice made to rise to greet her friend but was motioned back down. A bad idea it had been too, for her previously immobile shoulder now voiced its opinion that movement might not be the best course of action. Told me it would only hurt for a minute she muttered under her breath, but it was with deep affection that she now held this gentleman in her thoughts.  
"My dear! Doctor Lecter just told me what happened - what an unspeakable cad that man is!" There were tears in the woman's eyes but she looked flinty.  
"Really I'm fine Bella, he is gone now and that is all that matters."  
"I'll see to it that he never darkens your doorway again!" Bella spat in an unusual display of anger.  
"Did you see him? Now I come to think of it - how is it you came to be here?"  
"No I did not see him, and I hope I never do again. In fact-" Bella bit back her outburst.  
"Please calm yourself dear heart," Clarice offered a hand to her. "I can assure you he left here in much worse health than you find me now." She smirked a little and Bella relented with a begrudged smile.  
"So Dr. Lecter only told me that he removed Paul Krendler from the premises - I take it there was more to it than that?"  
"Oh-" Clarice laughed, "a lot more!" Clarice's insides quivered at the memory. Bella waited expectantly, so she continued. "Mr. Krendler actually tried to attack Dr. Lecter."  
"Oh my! The poor man!"  
"I assure you, he needs none of your concern. It was - it was astonishing. One does not expect such strength and reflexes, from his appearance." Her voice trailed off. "I believe I would like to rest upstairs for a while Bella, if you don't mind?" She needed some quiet time to mull over the afternoon's events.  
"Of course! Let me help you up."  
"And Bella, let's try and keep this as quiet as possible. I can do without half of London calling and enquiring as to my health. I am going to be just fine, as you can see."

***

Relaxing on the enormous bed, Clarice closed her eyes and drew up the memory of her encounter with the Doctor. He had put Krendler on the floor so effortlessly. She felt her heart-rate quicken as she relived the event, and wondered at herself. She should be appalled that two gentlemen had come to blows in her very own house, and have declared them both veritable hooligans and refused to have anything more to do with them. But he had been coming to her rescue, she supposed she could not berate him for that at all. Perhaps it was the excitement, the rush of fear, that had caused her to behave so inappropriately. She could have believed that, had the feelings not lingered still. She felt a rush of arousal as she admitted the fact of her affliction to herself. She was besotted with this Doctor; and he, apparently, did not find her distasteful either. Clarice pressed her thighs together and allowed long-dormant feelings to wash over her, and day-dreamed of Doctor Lecter until she fell asleep, and dreamed of him some more.

***

Annie came to wake Clarice the following morning, pulling the curtains wide and allowing the morning light to stream in. She announced that Clarice should expect visitors this morning and she had slept late already. Downstairs a light breakfast was laid out for her, along with some morning papers. Clarice happily replenished her energy with the splendid breakfast, and browsed the day's news.  
Net Closing on London Fiend  
Frederick Lounds, Esq., reporting for The Standard. A number of horrific murders in the East End of London, committed during the past four years, are now thought to be the work of one fiendish killer. Experts declined to comment on the evidence that brought this new advance in the unsolved cases, but say they are confident that they have a clearer idea than ever on how to go about unravelling the mysteries of the gruesome deaths.  
Annie bustled into the parlour.  
"Finished miss? There's someone here to see you. Miss Rachel DuBerry, shall I show her in?" Annie barely waited for Clarice's 'Certainly!' as she began removing the tray. When the room was cleared, Clarice stood and waited expectantly.

Miss DuBerry breezed into the room like so much sunshine. A tall, willowy woman, raven-haired and white-skinned, Clarice immediately felt dowdy in comparison. Her lips were full, her eyes bright and shining, and her clothes were straight from the fashion pages. She handed off her gloves to Annie, along with a fox fur stole and advanced eagerly upon Clarice.  
"Mrs Starling it's such a pleasure to meet you at last!" Her accent was perfect ladylike English, not a hint of London despite the fact that she was said to live in the city all year round.  
"How do you do, Miss DuBerry," Clarice bobbed a polite curtsey and tried not to be too aware of her own round vowels and comparatively, she felt, uncouth accent. "It's a pleasure to meet you too. Mrs Crawford mentioned you to me."  
"Oh yes, isn't Bella an absolute sweetheart, though how she can cope with that husband of hers I'll never know. He really is the limit! But you simply must call me Rachel!"  
"Mr Crawford?"  
"He is a terrible lech," Rachel bent her head to Clarice's in mock-secrecy. "I've had to see him off a number of times myself. My, but he does like the ladies."  
"Uh-" Clarice managed.  
"But listen to me, gossiping away. How are you finding London?"  
"I am enjoying the house immensely," Clarice smiled, glad of firmer conversational ground. "It is a real find! Do you live nearby, Miss Rachel?"  
"Goodness no! I could never dream of a place on Park Lane! I have a residence on a floor of a great building in Mayfair, and here you have the whole house, you lucky thing you!"  
"I had no idea of this being such an extravagance. Bella selected it for me, you see, and I trusted her expertise."  
"Of course, it is delightful. But anyway, what I really wanted to talk to you about was, well, your business, if I may be so bold?"  
"My business?" Clarice was surprised by the forthright question.  
"Yes, I understand that you take care of the whole thing now?"  
A little taken aback, Clarice fumbled for a moment, but then caught her stride. Rachel seemed to be waiting anxiously for the answers.  
"Well, yes. I helped my husband build the line from almost nothing. There was no sense in entailing it to some second cousin or distant uncle."  
"Isn't that a little" Rachel laughed, embarrassed, "progressive?"  
Clarice warmed to the woman. She wasn't judging, Clarice realised; she was hoping, desperate to discover that all she had heard was true.  
"I like to think so." She smiled warmly. Rachel sighed, evidently impressed and gladdened by the news. "Did you have something specific in mind, Rachel?"  
"Well yes, actually," she said shyly. "My own fortune is meagre, being left to me by my great uncle and going amongst a good many surviving relatives. I had hoped that I could, well, make something more of it."  
"Well wonderful!" Clarice cheered the woman. "That's a refreshing thing to hear in the circles I've been moving in."  
The door to the parlour opened and a maid entered with a tray of tea for the ladies, who set about the task of pouring with gusto. Clarice was delighted to find a woman her own age, and who appeared to not be a hopeless and helpless society damsel.  
"May I ask you another question, Mrs. Starling?"  
"Please, Clarice is my name, and certainly."  
"Do you miss your husband?" she asked very quietly.  
Clarice let a small silence fall.  
"Every day, I think of him with fondness. But we were parted a long time ago now. The memory does not pain me so much."  
"I don't mean to cause you sorrowful memories Clarice, but matters of love and of the heart are not polite dinnertime conversation in my circles. It will be good to have a real friend."  
"Did you never think to marry, Rachel?" Clarice turned the tables.  
"I thought I was going to, once, but now I am afraid my bloom is wearing off and I despair I will ever become a wife!" she said this airily but Clarice detected sincere concern.  
"Surely there are men lining up to court you!" Clarice could not fathom a city were a lady looking like this was single for long.  
"Well there is one," Rachel admitted in a low tone of confidence. "But I cannot tell you who he is. He is not ready to formally announce our betrothal, and I must respect his wishes. He has a plan to secure our future, and I cannot fault him." Rachel pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve theatrically, and Clarice made out two initials embroidered in black on the crisp white: "H.L."

H.L. The feeling of gross stupidity came over Clarice like a bucket of iced water. She felt heavy suddenly, as if being pressed down into her chair. Swallowing a rising lump in her throat she forced a smile onto her face.  
"How wonderful for you, Rachel."  
Rachel caressed the handkerchief lovingly in her lap, before folding it and neatly slipping it back inside her sleeve. The conversation continued in the realms of fashion, the weather, the locale; all a blur to Clarice. How could she have been so stupid? No, not exactly - how could he not have stopped her? That was a silly question, she berated herself, what man was going to turn down advances such as those she had forced upon him? He was probably too embarrassed, and wanted to spare her feelings by not rejecting her. He likely thought she was simply over-excited by the pell-mell of Krendler's visit. She frowned miserably.  
"So I would love to stay and visit with you all afternoon my dear Clarice, but I simply must be at my aunt's for tea or she will be dreadfully upset."  
"Of course you must go, and thank you for coming," Clarice forced her voice clear and even. "I am going to be in London until well after the new year, we can meet again soon." She rang the bell for Annie who came and restored Miss DuBerry's gloves and stole. With an enthusiastic hug and a kiss to either cheek, Rachel was gone, leaving Clarice feeling very alone.  


To Be Continued


	10. Chapter Nine

DESIRE & DUTY  
by MEL  


INTRODUCTION  
CHAPTER 1  
CHAPTER 2  
CHAPTER 3  
CHAPTER 4  
CHAPTER 5  
CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7  
CHAPTER 8  
CHAPTER 9  
TBC 

**DESIRE & DUTY**  


Chapter Nine

That's enough nonsense Mrs. Starling! You'll be getting out of bed this instant! Annie grabbed for the coverlet, but Clarice was quicker, and a brief struggle ensued.  
Annie I just don't want to be disturbed right now! Can you understand that?  
Look I don't know what happened ma'am but you've been up here for a whole day, now please come downstairs and eat, or at least let me draw you a bath!   
Despite herself, Clarice had to relent and laugh a little at the scene. Annie was flustered, looking close to tears even.  
Very well, very well! I shall get out of bed but please stop trying to steal my covers!  
Yes ma'am, Annie sighed thankfully. I'll be waiting for you in the bathroom.

Clarice waited till Annie had gone into the adjoining bathroom and lay back. She really should get out of bed and get a hold of herself. She had spent so many years being gun-shy, and the second she let down her defences she had made a mess of things. It was herself she should be mad at, she supposed, men will be men and all. Still, the hurt that she had felt upon immediately realising Lecter was promised to another, had since been replaced with something akin to anger, and she indulged it, all the more quickly to heal. He had fooled her quite thoroughly, seeming interested and charmed and genuinely attracted to her. Had she imagined all of that? No, she would give herself that much credit. With a resigned sigh she heaved herself out of the bed and into the bathroom. Annie had been chattering about a party at the Crawfords' residence for two days now, and she supposed she could not avoid all company indefinitely. In fact, she meant to look her best, and smile down upon him, and refuse to have anything further to do with him. Then maybe he would come to his senses and ditch Rachel. No, no, no! Then he would come to his senses and beg her forgiveness and she would laugh coldly and send him off to a pedestrian life with his chosen one. She smiled grimly at her own posturing, ridiculous though it was at least she was beginning to feel more like herself. She would simply smile and carry on, as she always had.

A few short hours later she descended the stairs in her best dress of shimmering cream silk, her hair an elaborate creation of Annie's. The dress was deeply décolleté in an empire fashion, and narrower than she was used to, but, she was assured, the very height of style. A few cards lay on the tray by the front door, the last two days' visitors, she supposed. Curious, she thumbed through them. One was Jack Crawford, one Rachel DuBerry, and two were Dr. Hannibal Lecter. She resisted the impulse to seize the card and conceal it in her dress close to her heart. Thoughtfully, though, she stowed it in her purse and resolved to return it to the gentleman as closure of their relationship.

The journey to Marylebone was but a short carriage ride north, and Clarice alighted in front of the Crawfords' London residence with no less nerves than when she had set out. It was in a blur that she took the steps and was separated from Annie, her maid to head downstairs with the staff and herself to be led to the drawing room, where the evening's guests were gathering. She fully intended to breeze into the room and make herself a conversational attachment with somebody innocuous looking, and avoid seeing or speaking to Dr. Lecter for the duration of the festivities. Unfortunately, the first thing she was drawn to gaze upon as she was shown in, was a pair of deep red-hued eyes that lit at her appearance and refused to let her gaze drop. She felt, for an idiotic instance, a little unsteady of feet and will, but determined, brought herself back to some semblance of composure and raised her head and continued to look at him down her nose, as it were, unsmiling. The smile that had tugged at the corners of his hitherto enjoyed mouth died away to be replaced with an impenetrable stony façade. She stared right back, boldly, unfriendly. _There_, she thought, _now you wonder and hurt too_. The curious tilt of his head and slight furrow of his brow should have worried her, but before she could take in his mien her gaze was interrupted by Rachel DuBerry approaching and taking her hand to shake vigorously. Absurdly grateful of the distraction, Clarice allowed her attention to fall directly on Rachel and block all others out.  
He is here! Rachel squeaked quietly, her eyes aglow, Did you see?!  
Yes, yes I saw, you must be so pleased! Clarice tried to be genuinely happy for the woman.  
It is the first time we have managed to converge at the same engagement in some time. The last time I saw him was at the Vergers' property several weeks ago.  
Oh you know the Vergers? Clarice seized upon the alternate thread of discussion.  
Oh yes. How do you know them?  
I met them at Lowingham during the summer. Tell me, is Mason Verger a man of the cloth? Or his ancestors perhaps?  
Rachel let out an unladylike snort.  
Whatever gave you that idea?  
Um, his name, I suppose. Verger – is that not a church position?  
It may well be, but that man would be the worst possible parody of a man of the cloth. What a ghastly thought! Poor Alice.  
Alice seemed quite happy when I met her.  
Well, I can believe that she does not see what is going on under her nose; not exactly academic, that girl. And to think that when he married, people said he was the one who would be cuckold by his pretty young wife. Rachel laughed sourly.  
I see. Clarice filed the information away. She felt it redundant to ask why they had married. Men like Verger were common in her neck of the woods too. Rich and influential, he had his pick of partners, and settled for the prettiest and the densest. A stamp of domesticity to hide his vices behind. Poor Alice indeed.  
So Clarice, did I tell you about my little rendezvous at the Vergers' place?  
No, I don't believe so, Clarice gratefully accepted a glass of wine proffered by a besuited waiter. I thought your relationship was of the utmost secrecy?  
Oh it is, but you know a girl can't live on promises! I have more need of him than I could ever have dreamt possible. She inhaled a controlling breath; Clarice tried not to look miserable. Oh but hush now, for here is Frederick.   
Clarice was obediently silent on the subject as she was introduced to one Mr. Frederick Lounds, man of letters and correspondent to _The Standard_.   
Mr. Lounds bowed exaggeratedly over her hand. He smiled with yellowing teeth and his eyes travelled all over her person without apology.   
On the contrary, Mr Loudnds, I am a mere_ Mrs_ or _ma'am_, Clarice spoke pleasantly to him. I believe I read of you in the paper earlier in the week.  
Ah yes, those dreadful murders. Between you and me ma'am, he leaned in as if telling a great secret, I don't hold much store in them police to get the bottom of this. I think I'm close though. He winked.  
Oh, well good for you, she said in what she hoped was an encouraging tone, truthfully wishing she could encourage him _away_, when his attention was caught across the room and he was mercifully extracted from their company for the time being.  
Come, Clarice, Rachel took her arm and gently guided her to a sofa partially obscured from the rest of the room by a large oriental silk screen. If we wait here we may get a visit from you know who shortly. Oh I hope he deigns to say hello!  
It was after Clarice sat down in the relatively private corner that she realised just who the visitor would be. Too late to excuse herself she instead half-emptied her wine glass and steeled herself. A shadow passed the screen and a gentleman edged around it to sit down. Clarice took a deep breath and prepared to be civil to her former interest, but was surprised by a tall, dark complexioned man of around 30 or so, who slid into the seat next to Rachel without introduction.  
Well hello sir! Rachel acted happily surprised. Allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Clarice Starling.  
How do you do, he murmured and shook hands.  
Clarice, this is Mr. Henry Lounds, brother of our industrious Frederick.  
How do you do, Mr Lounds, she responded. She was spared the invention of further platitudes when Mr Lounds, junior she assumed, bent his head quite freely to Miss DuBerry's and whispered in her ear, his lips most definitely brushing her neck and shoulder. When his hand descended upon her leg, Clarice swallowed in surprise and conscientiously looked away, studiously avoiding the spectacle. Was nobody in this town whom they appeared to be, she thought desperately? Was everybody she had been introduced to a duplicitous wretch of the lowest order? How could Rachel carry on like this with her proclaimed lover in this very room? The questions swarmed in her mind, and she could honestly avow that she had not felt quite so out of place and time in her life. Damn this country, she thought in a fit of anger and frustration. She should never have come. Rachel was using her quite ill to have her witness this and be seen to condone it by any who espied them.  
Henry Lounds you are incorrigible! giggled Rachel from beside her, quite oblivious now to anybody else in the universe. Wryly Clarice conceded that Rachel had good taste, Hannibal Lecter aside, Henry Lounds was definitely the brother of choice in _that_ family. The initial thought and slow dawning of realisation felt like cold water down Clarice's back. Hannibal Lecter. Henry Lounds. HL.. Her breath stopped and she closed her eyes and allowed her face to fall slack as she owned the stupidity.  
she said weakly, not looking up.  
Yes? Yes Clarice? her friend answered a little absently.  
Do you mean to confirm to me that Mr Lounds here is your paramour?  
Why yes, what did you think I . Um, yes Clarice, Rachel's attention suitably occupied Clarice rose to her feet to immediately seek out the Doctor. She paused before emerging from behind the screen, wondering what on earth she could do now. She had ignored his visits for two days following their first closeness, their first kiss – oh the kiss! Clarice felt her heart pitter-pat at the once-more-welcome memory. And then she had eyed him in a most hostile manner and rebuffed his warm welcome her recollection caught on the look on his face as she had contemplated him so frostily. She shivered slightly; now she felt a little afraid. She would be emotionally wrung if she continued with this up and down much longer, she knew. Forcing herself back into the fray, as it were, she stepped out from the corner and perused the room, desperately seeking him out. Her gaze travelled over some two dozen guests, some she could place and many she could not, but no Dr. Lecter. She should make her apologies to Bella and be on her way. There was no pleasure to be had here anymore this night.

Out in the hallway there was nobody to be seen, and rather than make a ruckus she went in search of her coat herself. This floor featured only the door the the cellar and the drawing room. She had seen the butler carrying coats upstairs earlier and so took off up to the next floor. The landing was dark, the only light being that shining upwards from the brightly lit entrance hall below. She made towards the first open door which stood in darkness. As she reached the threshold she had a sharp sensation of being watched, and at a sound close behind her, whirled in surprise. She did not see who accosted her as he stepped deftly with her whirl and finished behind her once again, to clap a hand to her mouth and pull her backwards into the darkened room. She heard the door thunk shut and a click as it locked, leaving her in pitch darkness. Her eyes opened wide as she strained to see.  
What do you want? she said quietly, feeling around her for something to orient herself to. She took a step back into a firm object, thigh height, her questing hands assured her it was a bed, topped as far as she could tell, with numerous coats and cloaks. Right room at least, she thought for an ironic second.  
What do you want? the voice echoed back to her, almost a whisper.  
My coat, she said coldly, trying to fasten on the location of the voice in the darkness. Over by the door still?  
Do you know who I am? the voice spoke into her ear and she jumped in fright and her heart began pounding. No, not by the door. She tried to back away but ended up sandwiched between the bed and what must be a night stand.  
I don't care to know who you are. Please, what can I do for you?  
You don't care to know me? the voice mocked. He was right in front of her now and she still could see nothing but inky blackness. That voice her fear-addled mind could not make the connection. She could not listen for cues with the blood rushing in her ears, could not see for the pitch darkness. Then it came to her, a scent familiar.  
Dr. Lecter? she said fearfully, not wanting especially to be right.  
Yes my dear.   
I – I words, pathetically, failed her.  
Ah yes, I see we are on the same page. I thought we had gotten on so well?  
We did! she breathed. Oh but –   
Did something happen? Did somebody say something to you Clarice?  
What? No! the hint of accusation in his voice bewildered her. Not directly her hands cast out to locate him but found no purchase. I'm afraid it was a stupid misunderstanding, she said miserably. Abruptly tired she dropped her hands and closed her eyes. A stupid misunderstanding. I thought you were  
Go on, his voice a modicum gentler this time.  
I thought you were courting Rachel DuBerry. She mumbled. Silence greeted her, she could not read the quiet for his mood. The absence of all clues as to how she should proceed was crippling. She felt like crying out of sheer weakness. She came to visit, and, well, she paused to mentally review the meeting, perhaps to scramble an excuse, but no, he deserved more than that. She said some things and II assumed too much. When yet more silence greeted her, she almost wailed into the darkness: I'm so sorry, you did not deserve such treatment as I greeted you with! You were the, she bit back a small self-pitying sob, perfect gentleman. Her voice trailed off to a whisper. 

The last word was almost inaudible. So would he leave now? He had his answer, the truth he was entitled to. As she began to entertain the notion that he had simply evaporated already, she felt his presence close in on her. Slowly but firmly he pushed her backwards, she protested as she descended upon the bed, to lie prone beneath him. Her fear still lingered. Had she angered him? Her eyes were wide, unseeing, her hands pinned uselessly to the bed. She tested his resolve and found his grip to be iron-strong. She swallowed heavily, quelling her fright now abandoned as a hopeless case. She gave in to the fear and a tear escaped one eye. She started in shock as she felt his tongue on her face, the tear lapped away, but still he said nothing. She strained against his hold and felt her body brush against his, angled above her. Her involuntary sharp intake of breathy pleasure surprised her as much as it surprised him it seemed, for she thought she heard him smile. From stupefying inaction to glorious and terrifying motion in a split second, she suddenly found her mouth ravaged by his and his knees forcing hers apart. As their mouths clashed together, she felt all restraint leaving her and did not attempt to summon it back. He freed her hands so his could descend upon her. Where his lips had been soft and gentle before, now they were insistent and hungry; where his hands had been chaste and unassuming, they now took free license to explore her person. Her own response was as libertine, welcoming his weight upon her, opening her lips beneath his, glorying in the teeth perceptible in his rough attentions. Her hands locked in his hair and she pressed his mouth to hers, the absolute darkness providing her with courage beyond reason. She felt the testimony of his masculine pleasure and felt her own swelling response take heart. She keened into his mouth and he seemed to swallow her pleasure greedily. For her own part, Clarice knew she would not deny him now, but his passion seemed to grow controlled, and coming back from a dizzying whirl, Clarice once more doubted that she was forgiven.  
Doctor I'm sorry, she offered quietly, suddenly embarrassed.  
You apologised graciously my dear, he responded at length. His lips brushed hers and she almost wept with relief. I am merely becoming conscious that we are in a most public place, his voice remained low and dusky with what sounded to Clarice like arousal. My home is nearby They both contemplated the situation for a moment.  
It would be unseemly for a lady to be gone an entire evening Doctor. She voiced the truth quietly. When his only response was to hmm' agreement, she added, I was simply suggesting that my abode might be just as suitable.

TBC  



	11. Chapter Ten

DESIRE & DUTY  
by MEL  


INTRODUCTION  
CHAPTER 1  
CHAPTER 2  
CHAPTER 3  
CHAPTER 4  
CHAPTER 5  
CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7  
CHAPTER 8  
CHAPTER 9  
CHAPTER 10  
TBC 

**DESIRE & DUTY**  


Chapter Ten

It was a testament to Dr. Lecter's distraction that the clumsy-footed observer in the upper hallway went unnoticed as he and Mrs. Starling emerged from the locked bedroom and took the stairs to the lobby. He kept her hand on his arm firmly under his grasp, as she seemed a little unsteady on her feet. His fingers subtly sought the pulse-point on her wrist, and he quashed a smile as he found it thready and looked to her eyes, pleasure mixed with delicious fear making them wide and bright. They managed to exit the building with just a word to the doorman and then they were out into the cold night.

The carriage blinds drawn, Lecter sought out Clarice's pulse once more, pressing his lips to her neck to sense the rushing blood driven by her excitement. The rush of arousal that coursed throughout her body surprised her; every molecule of her body seemed to be instantly ready and impatient for him. Skin a-tingle, head light, she felt a hot wetness she had thought lost to her experience. Her chest swelled upwards with her labouring breaths, and he ran his fingers over her dress, encouraging the growing nubs of her breasts to hardness. She wished for the barriers to be gone, to feel his hot skin on hers, biological memory of long since enjoyed pleasures driving her onwards. His lips hovered inches from hers, their breaths mingling. Her eyes, closed, anticipating his kiss, flickered open when it did not come. His hands continued their lazy exploration of the confines of her dress, his gaze drinking in her expression.  
"What? What is wrong?" she breathed.  
"Nothing is wrong," he answered in a voice as quiet as her own. "I am merely observing."  
Clarice smiled uncertainly.  
"It feels uncomfortable."  
He did kiss her then, and her mind dizzied some more.  
"Intimacy of the body is easy," he said as he drew back from her. "I crave more than satisfying carnal pleasures with your body."  
The arousal seemed to sap a little from her body. "I'm not sure I follow," she managed to say.   
"No I'm not sure you do. What troubles you?"  
How could she answer that? None of the responses that came to mind were becoming of a lady. How could she tell him she had no desire to be a wife again? No desire to be penned into a relationship, no desire to be subsumed once more. She wanted him now, she enjoyed his company, but she was not able to commit her freedom to this endeavour. But then, he had proved himself a man out of time, out of society, almost. No more foolishness, she had determined earlier in the evening.  
"I desire you, I do," she finally spoke. "So much right now it is difficult for me to think straight." She blushed faintly in the darkened space. "I just" she struggled to enunciate the notion.  
"Go on," he encouraged quietly.  
"I do not want to be in the position of a wife again."   
She was surprised when he chuckled.  
"Oh I could never do such a thing to you. To clip your wings in such a fashion would be unforgivable!"  
"But you said you desired more than-"  
"That is true, but current social values are not the only code of existence available to us."  
Clarice was quiet, mulling over the implications of this.  
"You begin to understand, but full enlightenment will come with time. Let us agree, now, only to banish all custom and correctness from governing our behaviour."  
She had to laugh, then, a little in relief, and earned herself a smile from him in return. The carriage jerked to a halt, preventing her from reattaching her lips to his, as had been her plan, so joyous was the feeling of liberty his words had restored. 

Clarice scouted ahead to dismiss the staff, though so late was the hour that there were very few left. Returning outside she addressed her horseman and bound his confidence, then preceded the Doctor into the house. She swallowed a lump of nervousness as he closed the door behind them and they were alone. How did one do this now, she wondered? Should she offer him a cocktail? How politely could a lady take a man by the hand and drag him up the stairs? Her ditherings were all for nought, as it seemed he had his own ideas. His hands came from behind to her shoulders and removed her coat, then reached around to the fastenings on the front of her dress. She turned impatiently in his arms and pushed his own overcoat from his shoulders, and he smiled in pleasure and encouragement as they continued to disrobe one another. She stopped at his shirt and bit her lip, momentarily nervous.  
"It's been a long time," she laughed quietly, apologetic. In response he moved in to kiss her again. His lips' attentions renewed her earlier fervour and she once again grew bold. His tongue slid over hers, an electric sensation, and she took his hand and placed it upon her breast, wantonly. Time seemed to blur and stretch, boundaries at length slipping away. She led him upstairs, a journey of an age, stopping every few steps to further explore her courage. She drew sounds from him that seemed music to her starved soul, and revelled in his enjoyment of her boldness. Her slip and his undershirt were all that remained between them when finally, arriving in the bedroom and unable to draw out the blissful anticipation any longer, she pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed and climbed astride him.  
"I've been longing for this since I met you," she whispered. "I knew not how to begin."  
His eyes were dark and glassy in the dim light of the boudoir as he met her gaze and responded,  
"I've been longing for this since I can remember; I knew not where to find you."  
The sensation was like a cup filled and brimming over, her desire washing out and over them both. No more thinking, no more concerns, no more good behaviour, this was something entirely _other_, and she had not realised the gaping hole in her being until it was filled. The rest of the world slipped off the edge of her consciousness, the limits of her universe this bed and the man upon it with her. Hard and real, hot to her touch, she gloried in the autonomy to do and be done to without thought beyond the immediate. His manhood pressed up between her legs, a delicious symmetry to his probing tongue, and she rose up on her knees to take him inside her.

In unison they uttered breathy pleasure, his hands moved to her hips to pull her deeper onto him, and hold her still. Her body adjusted to his intrusion and she closed her eyes at the ecstasy, the sensations so long given up for lost. He began to move her, rocking her gently, fortunate as she seemed to have lost all power of thought and sense, become a vessel with one purpose. She wanted this to go on forever, this languid, unapologetic pleasuring, this union so right. She sought out his mouth and kissed him crushingly, unable to restrain herself from nipping. Their motions gained momentum and he tore his lips from hers and fell to her neck, using his teeth on the pale, thin skin to drive her to further heights of dizzy desire. She continued to ride him shamelessly and with abandon, allowing herself to let go of pretensions and worries and concerns, allowing herself only the physical and mental experience of the act itself, and when he drew back to watch her this time, did not cringe or shy away, but blossomed further, opened up to degrees she had no concept of. His eyes flickered and she heard him, "yes, yes" under his breath, then louder,  
"Tell me Clarice"  
"It's I can't oh!" He bucked beneath her and he cried out in pleasure, his voice mingling with hers as the sensation of his swelling climax deep inside her pushed her over the edge.

When reality began to creep back into her consciousness, he had fallen back on to the bed and she was lying atop him, hair fanning out over his chest. A hand stroked lazily up and down her back and she sighed contentedly. Only cramping limbs forced her to move some time later, and she fell into a restful slumber beside the Doctor - Hannibal. She supposed they were on first name terms now. The lethargic smile stayed on her lips as sleep claimed her.

A grey dawn was seeping under the curtains to the room when a kiss to her forehead woke her.  
"I must be leaving now Clarice."  
She nodded muzzily and rolled over in the bed.  
"Pray call on me tomorrow," she muttered sleepily.   
A pleased laugh was his only reply, and the door clicked shut softly behind him. Clarice fell back to sleep and did not wake until Annie arrived some hours later.  


TBC


End file.
